Snow Day
by Blue Tears
Summary: One Shot: SamFrodo Slash: Snow Snuggle!


**Title:** Snow Day 

**AN:** Snow day…eheheh, can't be blamed for silly sappiness. Not much more than a lil drabble (but not 100) I hope it's not to confusing. Adapted from another version I wrote, except with more added. Not sure if they have hot coco or snow in the Shire… 

**Disclaimer:** Hmmm…Okee Well I don't anything…but the wonderful, genius of a man named Tolkien does so; thank you! 

**Summary:** One Shot: Sam/Frodo Slash: Snow Snuggle! 

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**Snow Day**

    He's not sure how long he's been standing there, watching, waiting, simply breathing as crystalline flecks of white cascade all about him, no sign of ceasing their perpetual downward spirals. They descend upon his face, clinging to the long lashes of dusk; falling upon a lower lip, parted and flushed, just before the tip of a pink tongue laps up the melted flakes. A cool mist of breath streams from his lips as a sigh of wonder slips through the air; breathe mingling and dancing with flakes. Exposed unruly, disheveled deep chocolate ringlets become littered with a light dusting of fluffy clumps. The gentle snowflakes caress the naturally alabaster skin of his cheeks, now a blushing pink from the cold. White on rough black fabric is all that can be seen in the ongoing sea of storming flakes. Eyes of purest blue stare out upon his new garden; blanketed in a thick film of fluffy snow; snow, so pure and clean, unmarred by a single footstep. 

     A quiet crunch of snow behind him fails to phase the perfect tranquility of the hobbit watching the snow. Blue is veiled by pale skin as lashes sprinkled by white flakes (flakes put to shame of their hue by skin upon which they lay) descend to caress and kiss the sharp flushed curve of cheek. Breathe held as he waits for the warmth he knows is coming; yet he still jumps an infinitesimal bit as an arm weaves through his arms, heavy but his sides, to wrap about his slender waist. The gloved hand, which once rested upon slender hips, slips to the front, between the loosely buttoned flaps of the older hobbit's black coat. One heavy arm lifts from his side to cover the one wrapped around his body. A warm wool glove slides between an open silk light blue weskit and further slips between homespun shirt tails. Finally meeting skin fingertips covered with wool scrap gently against protruding hip bone as his thumb begins to trace lazy patterns and circles on cream white skin. 

     Tilting his head the older hobbit lets a quiet, almost inaudible sigh of pure contentment whisper through the air. The unoccupied hand of the body behind him slips up to his shoulders, flitting across one to pull lightly at the soft fabric of scarf wreathing the dark haired hobbit's neck. A gloved finger slides between the folds and creases of the scarf as the fair haired hobbit pulls it down and away from the sensitive skin of neck. The fabric is quickly replaced by hot caressing puffs of breath, poured lovingly from between thin flushed lips. Thin lips soon too covered by flakes press against still warm skin. 

     The scent of lavender soap fills his senses as he presses his face against the other's neck, burying his face in soft brown curls. The auburn head tilts back resting against the shoulder of the stout hobbit behind him. They look up into the sky as thousands of flakes spiral down towards them, caressing their skin. The older hobbit turns his head as he raises his other hand, pressing it against the side of the other hobbit's cheek. Mossy dark eyes cast down upon pale skin as a smile warmer than any arm wrapped about his body or fire graces the hobbit's thin lips; he can help smile back as his own blue eyes reflect the same warmth. He presses his almost nail-less fingers into the hobbit's neck lightly as he drags his face down. Near frozen lips, bottom fuller then top, meet and caress two warm thin lips; both pairs flushed pink. Misty breath flows from where the two meet as they sigh into each others mouth; lips and tongues playing off one another. 

     '_So warm, so content._' 

     "I think it's time, we best be gettin' along and goin' inside, Mister Frodo." Sam whispered against Frodo's lips, warming them with his breath. "Wouldn't want me ol' Gaffer ta stumble upon us like this, now would we, Mister Frodo?" He quipped pressing his fingers against a pale hip before reluctantly withdrawing his hands from within the warm layers. A quiet moan of disapproval at the loss of Sam's warm hand escaped Frodo's lips before he could suppress it. 

     "Sam…" Frodo whimpered letting his fingertips graze against Sam's lips before falling heavy to his side, his other falling limp by his side, releasing Sam's arm. A large gloved hand slides down from Frodo's neck along the line of his spine to the small of his back. 

     "I've got hot coco a waitin' for us on the stove," he offered pulling his hand away from the small of Frodo's back. Sam laid his arm around Frodo's slender shoulders, nudging the older hobbit to his side as he fell into stride along side Sam. Crunching through the snow they slipped in to Bag End and made their way into the cozy kitchen. As Sam had promised on the stove was a small pot of hot coco warming up. 

     "Sam you're far too sweet." Frodo's eyebrows arched inward as he smiled sweetly. Placing a small appreciative kiss on Sam's cheek, Frodo took a seat at the wooden table set up in kitchen. Sam pulled of his wool gloves before pulling down two mugs from the kitchen cabinet. With a slight blush Sam quickly busied himself with pouring two mugs of coco, placing a dollop of whip cream in one. Sam set down a mug of coco and whip cream in front of Frodo before sitting down opposite his master. He brought the cup to his thin lips, blowing the rising steam from the surface of the liquid. 

     Over the rim of the mug he watched Frodo take a small sip, white cream sticking to his lower lip as the snow had only moments before. Sam suppressed a smile and urges to lap up the cream. Pulling off his scarf, Frodo glanced up at his gardener. Clear blue eyes flashed up to lock with Sam's and a sudden grin graced Frodo's pale face. In an effortless single movement Frodo stood from his chair and slipped onto Sam's entirely all too warm and waiting lap. Sam's strong arm wreathed around Frodo's slim waist as the other tipped coco down his throat. Taking another small sip, Frodo let his own arm slide around Sam's neck; burring his hand into sandy curls. Placing his mug down on the table Frodo began to blindly trace the lines of Sam's hobbit ear. 

     '_Pure contentment._' Not being able to suppress his urges anymore Sam tipped his head up to Frodo's and slowly, in one drawn out sensual movement licked the small wisp of cream from a full lower lip. Auburn curls tangled with sandy ringlets as Frodo pushed against his gardener's body, cupping his tanned face with alabaster fingers. When the need for oxygen over powered the thirst for Sam's lips and warmth he pulled away and laid his head on Sam's broad shoulder. Blue once more was veiled by stark white as Frodo let his arms hug snuggly around Sam's neck. 

     They don't speak, for there are no words to say; they simply aren't needed. 

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** AN:** Okee it sort of changed half way through but oh well… 


End file.
